


Sweet N Low

by aradian_nights



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Non-binary character, Other, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4507227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aradian_nights/pseuds/aradian_nights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mutsuki doesn't take sugar with his coffee, which Suzuya finds frankly appalling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet N Low

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RosaTonta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaTonta/gifts).



> Happy somewhat-belated Birthday, Abby! this was really fun and easy to write, considering we. basically talked about this already so it wasn't like i had nothing to work with. 
> 
> btw i have great admiration for anyone who can take their coffee black (abby), bc i am weak and i need half a bowl of sugar and heaps of cream i may be small and bitter but that doesn't mean my coffee has to be.
> 
> also pls note i use gender neutral pronouns for suzuya bc i headcanon them agender so you don't really have to comment and remind me that they use "boku" like i know that, i know. i know. it's fine. it's cool. this is fine. i don't need anyone to tell me.

“Do you normally wake up this early?”

Mutsuki raised his eyes from the thick manila folder he’d set on the deceivingly sticky linoleum tabletop. They were sitting in a narrow little western-style diner, decorated with classic checkered floors and bright red leather seated stools and eccentric green vinyl booths. This wouldn’t be Mutsuki’s first choice for a meeting place, but it was warm and cozy, so he couldn’t exactly blame Suzuya for making the call.

“Well… yes?” Mutsuki stared at Suzuya bemusedly. They’d already half draped themself over the table, tipping a salt shaker precariously beneath one skeletal little finger. They had one eye on Mutsuki’s face, while the other remained hidden in a curtain of shadow and dark hair. “It isn’t really that early, is it?”

“It _feels_ that early,” Suzuya mumbled, hiding their face in their arms. “Does everyone do this? Get up at eight?”

“Oh. Uh, well…” Mutsuki smiled sheepishly, unsure of how to really respond. _Most investigators are in the office by eight_ , he thought mildly. He didn’t say anything, of course, but he did have to wonder what on earth was going on in Suzuya’s head. That wasn’t really a new thing, though. “I guess it really depends. People like Sasaki and I, we get up earlier than we need to, where as people like Shirazu or Saiko will literally just wait until the last possible minute to get out of bed.”

“Hmm.” Suzuya wasn’t speaking, but their voice still rang in a jumble of muffled syllables. Then, suddenly, their head popped up, and they twisted in their seat. “Ahh! Can I have a triple stack of chocolate chip pancakes with extra-extra syrup and whipped cream?” A waitress had paused several feet behind their booth, her eyes wide. Suzuya slumped against the backrest of their booth, and they added as an afterthought, “Please?”

“Sure,” the waitress said, setting down two mugs of coffee near the edge of their table. Mutsuki dragged his closer, watching Suzuya slump again and eye the coffee mug skeptically.

“Do you… not like coffee?” he asked cautiously. He felt guilty for not knowing, even though he knew it was silly, because how could he know? Even though he and Suzuya were friends, they were still basically acquaintances. Suzuya didn’t speak too much about themself, and Mutsuki was equally closed off.

“Ehh…” Suzuya dipped their finger into the scalding liquid while Mutsuki gazed at them with wide eyes, his jaw locking tight. _Don’t say anything_ , he told himself. _This is Suzuya, so it’s not that weird_. “I’ll drink it, I guess, since I like having lots of energy, but it’s so icky that I can barely stand it.”

“I guess that’s understandable,” Mutsuki said, smiling dimly at them. They dragged the coffee closer, swirling their finger around the mug idly. “Anyway, we should probably start talking about the case.”

“Mm.” Suzuya drew their finger from the mug and caught it in their mouth before any residual coffee could spill onto the table. They visibly cringed, their nose scrunching up in disgust. Mutsuki watched as they hooked their finger around the corner of their mouth and popped the inside of the cheek. “Blegh!”

“You don’t have to drink it,” Mutsuki told them gently.

“Yeah.” They grimaced, glowering at the mug with clear disdain in their eyes. “What a godless concoction.”

Mutsuki smiled, his eyes wide. He didn’t have any response to that.

“So…” Mutsuki glanced down at the file again, deciding to focus on work instead of Suzuya’s antics. He enjoyed being around Suzuya, even if their actions sometimes completely baffled him. “About the case…”

“Uh huh.” A ripping sound filled the air. Mutsuki recognized it simply as sugar packets being torn open. So it didn’t really occur to Mutsuki to look up from the file, really. He probably really needed to stop simply assuming things. Making assumptions around Suzuya would just give him a headache.

Another ripping sound caught his attention. He looked up.

He found himself watching Suzuya throw back a sugar packet like a shot. It was really just a sight to behold, honestly. Mutsuki covered his mouth to hide a smirk, feeling that it might be inappropriate to snicker at Suzuya. They were definitely friends, yeah, and Suzuya never made Mutsuki feel like an underling, but Mutsuki was still wary of the looming title of Special Class which seemed to drape like an ill fitting collar around Suzuya’s pale throat.

“Are you gonna keep talking?” They glanced at Mutsuki curiously. The sugar packet, a long, thin tube resembling a straw, wiggled between their teeth. It was completely empty.

“Ah!” Mutsuki flushed, looking quickly back down at the file. _I was staring_ , he realized, scolding himself. _I couldn’t have made Suzuya uncomfortable, right? Does Suzuya even get uncomfortable? Oh no_ … He took a deep breath. “Y-yeah. Yeah. Sorry, I’ll continue.”

Suzuya watched him. They rested their elbows against the table, and they leaned forward, muddy red eyes big and searching. “Do you sleep?”

Mutsuki paused, feeling that this was something distinctly different than Suzuya’s other offhanded statements, the rapid outward flux of words just to fill up some invisible void.

“... Sorry…?” Mutsuki’s brow furrowed, and he found himself sinking into his seat. “What?”

“I mean,” Suzuya gasped, plucking the wasted bit of paper from their mouth and tossing it next to its discarded twin on the table, “like, do you wake up this early because you can't sleeping?”

“No,” Mutsuki said. He didn’t understand. Why was Suzuya asking this? “I mean, I’ve had trouble sleeping in the past, but… not… currently…?” Mutsuki studied Suzuya’s face, and Suzuya stared back vacantly. It was difficult to read Suzuya’s emotions, because they seemed perpetually either bored or manic. Mutsuki was, to put it plainly, suddenly struck with a nagging sort of worry that he knew full and well would persist for weeks. “Are you okay?”

They cocked their head. They smiled bright, and they threw their arms into the air. “Who knows!” the shrieked with laughter bubbling up and tinkling like a bell.

“Um.” Mutsuki glanced away quickly. “Oh.”

Suzuya was suddenly quiet. Mutsuki shot a quick glance at them, and looked away again when he saw that they were staring.

“I’m sorry,” Mutsuki said.

“What for?”

“I…” What for? What a great question. Mutsuki just automatically found those words and spat them out when he was overly anxious. It was a reflex, an instinct. It happened. He couldn’t stop it. “I don’t know. I don’t want to pry, so…”

“You aren’t prying.” Suzuya looked at him, and they seemed puzzled. “Are you wondering why I asked? It’s okay, you can ask me that kind of stuff.” Suzuya beamed at him suddenly, and they leaned across the table, so far that the whole thing shuddered under their weight. “That’s what friends _do_ , right?”

For whatever reason, hearing Suzuya reaffirm their friendship soothed Mutsuki’s nerves. He found himself smiling back at Suzuya’s beaming face, and he nodded curtly.

“Right,” he said. “Okay. So it’s okay to ask?”

“Sure?” Suzuya rolled their eyes, plopping back down into their seat. “You wanna know why I asked, right? Well, it’s just, y’know, I don’t sleep much.”

“Oh.” Mutsuki could understand that. He’d had his bouts of insomnia, though it had been mostly when he’d been younger. The antidepressants he’d taken in school had been the worst. One of the side effects was loss of sleep, and Mutsuki had felt that like nothing else. It had gotten bad. It had gotten so bad, he’d stopped taken them, and then everything had just gotten worse, and he didn’t want to think about that right now, honestly, but it was hard not to because he saw the deep, swollen bruises beneath Suzuya’s eyes, and he knew what it was like to just have those. Perpetually. He didn’t miss it. “How much sleep do you get? Just, on average?”

“Uhh…” Suzuya hummed, glancing up at the ceiling and tipping their head back. “Well! That really depends. I get more sleep in the summer. I think I get at least four hours—”

“Wait.” Mutsuki held up his hands. “What time do you get to sleep regularly?”

Suzuya blinked at him, and they pursed their lips, their expression scrunching up in deep thought. “Uh…” They scratched their head. “What time does the sun usually come up?”

“Suzuya!”

“What?” They jerked back, looking astonished and maybe a little hurt that Mutsuki had yelled, and Mutsuki felt bad. Mutsuki felt so bad, because he understood how awful insomnia was, and that it wasn’t Suzuya’s fault, but he was just… worried. Yeah. He was really worried. “It’s… bad?”

Mutsuki’s eyes were wide, though only one was visible. Suzuya had shrunk a little, which was odd to see, because Suzuya had such an overwhelming presence. He needed to get this sorted out. He needed to make Suzuya smile again.

“It’s probably just insomnia,” Mutsuki explained hastily. “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad. You can probably be medicated for it, if you really need more sleep.”

“Meds?” Suzuya wrinkled their nose in firm distaste, shaking their head furiously. “Nuh uh, no thanks. I hate meds.”

“Um… but…?” Mutsuki sensed he’d already lost this battle. He sighed. “Okay, then.”

“Don’t _you_ hate meds?” Suzuya asked in a soft, urgent tone. It felt like they were nudging Mutsuki along. It sounded the way peer pressure felt.

“It depends on what they’re for, I guess,” Mutsuki said. Though, even as he spoke, he was flashing back to those awful antidepressants, and he grimaced. “Some drugs are really not fun, so I get it. But other drugs are really needed, you know? Like, it’s important if you need the medication.”

“Well it can’t be that important, can it?” Suzuya huffed, drumming their fingers against the table.

“Oh, jeez…” Mutsuki murmured, closing his eyes.

“Whaaat?” Suzuya huffed. “What is it? Is that wrong? Not taking that stuff?”

“Suzuya, what medicine are you being prescribed?” he asked cautiously. He didn’t open his eyes because he didn’t really want to see Suzuya’s expression.

“Uh… I dunno? Am I supposed to like, memorize the funny names? They’re so hard to remember!” Suzuya moaned, the vinyl booth seat squeaking violently. They’d probably slid down rather exaggeratedly to make that noise.

“Okay, well, can you tell me what it’s for at least?” Mutsuki opened his eyes. Suzuya was hardly visible. They’d sunk so low in their booth that all that was left of them was a fluffy tuft of black hair peeking out from the edge of the table. “Suzuya…” Mutsuki smiled in disbelief. He was reminded distinctly of Saiko. “Hey…” He ducked his head under the table, and he stared at Suzuya intently. “Come on. We don’t have to talk about this anymore, okay?”

They blinked. They were sort of half sprawled beneath the table, their arms resting back on the booth and their legs hugged tight to their chest so they didn’t bump against Mutsuki’s. Their eyes were wide, and they averted them sharply.

“Um…” they said quietly, frowning a bit. “Well… it’s like… oh, shit, I don’t remember, okay?”

“Oh. Wow.” Mutsuki gripped the table so he could tilt his head further beneath it. “That’s… probably not good. At all.”

“Really?” Suzuya’s eyes softened. “Ah… ha ha! Whoops!”

“It’s not really funny…” Mutsuki’s fingernails were digging into the sticky linoleum. He wouldn’t be able to mask his concern at this rate. He was really, really worried!

“Nah, it’s a little funny?”

“Not really…”

“It can’t be that important, can it?”

“Suzuya…” Mutsuki imagined what Hanbee would say if he knew. Oh. Wow. Mutsuki nearly shuddered. The poor guy. It’d be for the best if he didn’t find out, honestly. “Does your doctor know you stopped taking this medication?”

“I don’t know?” Suzuya smiled, and they shrugged.

“Oh… my god, okay. Um…” Mutsuki blinked. Something had snagged on the hem of his pants. He tried to get a good look, and he realized with a dulling sense of surprise that it was just Suzuya tugged at them. They were waving their other hand. Oh. Did they want him to…? Mutsuki glanced around the diner. He felt so silly, slipping down against the squeaky vinyl and crouching cautiously beneath the table. “What is it?”

“This is more fun,” Suzuya explained happily, “isn’t it?”

Mutsuki wouldn’t call crouching in a small space between the gum encrusted underside of a table and dirty checkered tile “fun” but he supposed he could indulge Suzuya.

“We should probably figure out what that prescription was for,” Mutsuki admitted.

“Well,” Suzuya huffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s no fun at all.”

“I just want to make sure it’s not… important.” Mustsuki swallowed hard. Not important? That was doubtful if it was a prescription for something chronic. But he’d have to put on a happy face. He didn’t want to dampen Suzuya’s mood. After all, a moody Suzuya was a little frightening.

“I couldn’t really say,” they said thoughtfully, resting their chin against their knees. “Is it really that big a deal?”

“Kind… of?” Mutsuki sighed. “Sorry. It’s just, that medication could be really important. Whatever it’s for. Do you still have it, by any chance?”

“Uh…” Suzuya stared vacantly into space, their eyelids sliding dazedly over their cloudy red eyes. “I guess it’s probably still in the cupboard. Do you wanna look at it and see if you recognize the medicine?”

He wasn’t sure why he relaxed, but he was suddenly relieved of some of the immense pressure that his worry had been putting him under. He smiled at Suzuya and nodded firmly. “At the very least I can look it up if I don’t recognize it,” he said. Though Suzuya could do that by themself, Mutsuki sincerely doubted they would.

The sound of approaching footsteps seized Mutsuki with anxiety, and both his head and Suzuya’s turned to glance at the legs that had appeared beside their table. Suzuya popped back into their seat excitedly while Mutsuki found himself blushing, feeling strangely mortified. Only little kids hid under tables. This was so silly!

But still, some part of him didn’t really want to get back up.

It was strange. Like nostalgia had tangled him up, and he couldn’t find a way out of this web of childishness.

But his childhood had sucked, so he didn’t have much to positively be nostalgic about.

In fact, hiding under this table was making his chest seize up from panic.

He didn’t want to get up and out from under it because he was caught in that terrible web of nostalgia, and feeling those pent up feelings, ghosts of silent fear and asphyxiating isolation and crippling sadness.

All of a sudden he felt so terribly lonely.

“Tooru!” Suzuya sang, sticking their head under the table to grin at them. “Are you hiding?”

 _Yes_ , Mutsuki thought glumly. He smiled back, and he pushed himself back into the booth. Suzuya was attacking their pancakes, happily stuffing as much food into their mouth as their cheeks could hold.

“So where’s Hanbee right now?” Mutsuki asked carefully. He only asked because, frankly, he was beginning to sincerely appreciate having the man around.

Suzuya’s mouth was full, so they just offered a plain old shrug. Figured they didn’t know.

They swallowed hard, and countered with a big smile, “Where’s Haise?”

Mutsuki stared. He flushed, and frowned down at the file they’d both been actively avoiding. “Okay, I get your point.”

Suzuya laughed heartily, and Mutsuki took his coffee mug and quickly took a gulp. It was still moderately warm, if not hot, and though it was entirely too strong and washed thickly down his throat, he was instantly calmed.

When he looked up, he found Suzuya staring at him intently. Their eyes were huge, nearly bulging out of their small skull as they eyed Mutsuki’s coffee cup with keen distrust.

“What…?” Mutsuki glanced down at the mug. “I don’t need sugar or anything.”

“You just drink it like _that_?” Suzuya had set their fork down to simply gape, their voice raising a pitch. They were clearly scandalized. Mutsuki felt like he’d done something very wrong. Oh no.

“Ye… yeah…?” Mutsuki’s cheeks and neck were heating up, and he blinked, feeling the heat of Suzuya’s sharp gaze.

Their face seemed to crumple, morphing between distinct disgust and mute horror.

“That’s so sad and bitter.” Suzuya’s lips dragged down into a plaintive little frown. “Who hurt you, Tooru?”

Mutsuki pressed his lips into a thin line and decidedly kept silent.

They did not get any work done at that diner. Mutsuki supposed he couldn’t be surprised. He should have expected it from the moment Suzuya started to avoid talking about the file. Clearly they’d had no intention of actually doing work.

“Okie dokie, then!” Suzuya marched rather stiffly, like a tin soldier, down a long, narrow hall to their apartment. Mutsuki followed with both hands firmly gripping the strap of his bag. He waited for Suzuya to unlock their door, but they simply just opened it and walked inside.

“Uh…” Mutsuki glanced at the door. It certainly had a lock. Why didn’t Suzuya use it? “Don’t you lock your door, Suzuya?”

“Nope.” They were already deep inside the apartment. Mutsuki sighed, pushing through the open door and glancing around.

The door opened right into the kitchenette, which was small, a narrow strip of the wall dedicated to the fridge, the stove-oven combo, and a small bit of counter space dominated by overturned bottles and surrounded by cabinets. From the kitchenette, there was a small living room area with a futon, a television, some kind of gaming system that he knew he recognized, but couldn’t put a name to, and a white plastic table folded up against the wall. On the floor between the futon and the television, there was a fluffy looking white comforter crumpled up beneath a clearly flattened, over-worn pillow.

“Do you have company?” Mutsuki asked without stopping to think.

Suzuya glanced at him curiously.

“No,” they said.

Mutsuki panicked. He was trying to put all the pieces together, but he didn’t want to ask anything more. He was a guest here, and he couldn’t be rude. Hastily, he kicked off his shoes and set them beside the door.

 _If they don’t have anyone staying with them, what’s the blanket and pillow for?_ Mutsuki wondered, turning slowly to face them. He found himself glancing at the barren walls of the room. There was one other door besides the entrance. It was either a bedroom or a bathroom. Mutsuki would bank on it being a bathroom. Meaning Suzuya probably… slept in here?

“The medicine is in here,” Suzuya said, walking into the kitchenette and standing on their tip toes to reach the top shelf of one of their cabinets.

“Do you want some help?” Mutsuki started forward carefully. “I’m taller.”

“By _what_ , a centimeter?” Suzuya scoffed. They paused to consider it. “Actually! Tooru, come here!”

 _Shit_.

He could already see his fatal mistake. But there was no backing down, really. So he kept walking, moving closer and closer to Suzuya until they were grabbing him by the arms.

“Hold still, okay?” Suzuya repositioned him so that he was directly in front of the cabinet. If Suzuya had even just a step stool, they probably would have been able to reach the top shelf. But nope. That’d make too much sense. So Suzuya planted their hands on Mutsuki’s shoulders, leaving him with a jittery feeling, like he was about to fall and it was going to be terribly unpleasant, like a carnival ride.

He managed to catch Suzuya’s legs and support them on his back. They were surprisingly light, and they grabbed whatever they needed quickly enough.

“Got it,” they sang. One arm looped around Mutsuki’s neck loosely, as though they weren’t too concerned about holding on tight. “Do pills like this expire?”

“Pills can expire, yes.” Mutsuki felt Suzuya rest their chin against the top of his head, and he realized rather quickly that he was blushing. “Are… you having fun?”

“Lots!” Suzuya chirped. “Can you carry me to the couch?”

Mutsuki frowned. He stood very still for a few moments, tossing over his options until Suzuya began to whine loudly, kicking his feet up gently.

“You’ve just gotta carry me!” they gasped, winding their arms around Mutsuki’s neck and nestling their cheek against his ear. The pill bottle in their fist rattled. “Come on, come on! I’m _disabled_!"

“Hey, are you honestly going to use that to guilt me?” Mutsuki squeaked, finding his entire face and neck and upper body warmed entirely by Suzuya’s overwhelming affection.

“If it’s working, then yeah!” Suzuya kicked their feet happily. They didn’t have shoes on, so Mutsuki could see the full extent of their prosthetic. It was very realistic, but the foot didn’t really move the same as a flesh foot would. It flopped instead of flexed. Suzuya really was disabled, even if they didn't often show it. Mutsuki thought that it might be in poor taste for them to bring it up in such a way, but he couldn't exactly blame Suzuya, could he?

While Suzuya was in such close proximity, Mutsuki was sort of overwhelmed by their scent. They simply smelled really, really good. Their cheek was cool and smooth as it bumped against his, their hair tickling Mutsuki’s ear and the smell of their skin burning his nose. It smelled the way apple pie tasted, a brittle, bitter outer shell melting into caramelized cinnamon sweetness. Why did Suzuya smell so good? What was with that? Mutsuki didn’t even like apple pie, but the scent made him hungry, and that only made him feel more sheepish.

“Okay.” Mutsuki brought Suzuya carefully to the futon. They kicked out of Mutsuki’s arms and fell back against the couch, folding their legs easily beneath them. Mutsuki had shouted upon losing his grip of Suzuya, but he realized quickly that it was, in fact, Suzuya. Why did Mutsuki insist on worrying about them? This was Suzuya Juuzou, Special Class Investigator. They didn’t need someone like Mutsuki to worry over them. At least not when it came to matters like falling off someone’s shoulders.

“Sit.” Suzuya beamed at him. They looked really happy, which was more than Mutsuki could really ask for. So he smiled, and sat down beside them. “I read the label, but I really don’t know what it’s for. I’m sure someone told me once, but I forgot."

“Does that happen a lot?” Mutsuki asked taking the bottle gingerly from their hand.

“Ehhh…” They made a vague waving motion, their eyes rolling back. They sat very still. They looked around. “Oh. Oops. I guess I didn’t expect visitors. I don’t get visitors. When I came to your and Haise’s and the other quinx’s place, it was all so super clean and pretty. Is it always like that?”

“No,” Mutsuki laughed, glancing away sharply. “Um, yeah, no. When you have five people living in one place, it’s perpetually a disaster. But Sasaki is really good at making everything seem… not. Not a disaster.”

“Haise’s really good like that,” Suzuya laughed. “He makes everything seem better somehow.”

“Yeah…” He smiled fondly, finding himself relaxing a bit from the intense blushing the piggyback ride had inflicted upon him. “We’re really lucky to have him.”

He inspected the label on the prescription bottle. He stared at it for a moment or so before he sunk back into the futon. Oh. This made sense. Everything made sense, actually.

“Suzuya,” he said gently, “this is adderall.”

They simply stared at him, smiling vacantly.

“What the fuck is that?” they asked. It was in a bright, strangely timid voice.

“It’s… it’s for ADHD.” Mutsuki turned it over the check the expiration date. Yeah, they should have gotten a refill years ago. 

They rested their chin in their hands and smiled big. “You saying random letters doesn’t make me understand what that’s for any better, you know.”

“It, um, stands for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.” He glanced down at the bottle, and he shook it thoughtfully. “Basically, you have a… a pretty hard time paying attention, and you’re just overall… um… restless?” Mutsuki sighed. He wasn’t a doctor. He shouldn’t have to be the one to explain this.

“Oh.” Suzuya nodded. “That sounds about right. So what does the drug do?”

“It helps you pay attention.”

“Oh, well,” Suzuya snorted, “no wonder why I hated it.”

“Suzuya…”

“They gave me lots of drugs before,” they explained. Mutsuki opened his mouth, and then promptly closed it. Before? Before what? He didn’t know if he wanted the answer. “Meds are scary. They mess up your brain, and since my brain actually kinda works right, I don’t wanna mess with it any more than it’s already been messed with.” They shrugged, pulling a sugar packet from their pocket and ripping it open. “Plus, I don’t trust doctors all that much.”

Mutsuki stared at the bottle. This made a lot of sense, but it also scared Mutsuki, because what other medications had Suzuya been put on only for them to immediately take themself off? Once again he was unfathomably worried. There was no real reason for it. It was just there. Plain, naked worry.

He cared about Suzuya a lot, he realized.

“Did you steal those from the diner?” Mutsuki asked flatly as he watched Suzuya tear open another sugar packet. They didn’t answer. They merely smiled and threw the packet back. This one seemed to be a little too ripped, because a burst of sugar escaped from the side and exploded against Suzuya’s lips, clinging to the red thread laced into their skin and skittering down their chin. Mutsuki laughed.

Suzuya glanced at him, and they pouted. They couldn’t speak, because their mouth was full, but they did watch him suspiciously. Then, when they finally swallowed, they huffed.

“What?” they asked.

“You have sugar,” Mutsuki said, “all over your face.” He shook his head, glancing around the apartment. “Do you have any tissues?”

“Hm…” Suzuya thumbed their lip thoughtfully. They withdrew it, and saw it was bathed in sugar. “No, that’s okay.”

Without warning, they planted their hands on the seat between them, their knuckles sinking into the soft cushion of the futon, and they leaned forward. Mutsuki had incidentally turned at the right time, because he found himself staring into the very murky depths of Suzuya’s red eyes. They were big and they were bright and they watched Mutsuki with plain admiration. He felt the familiar heat of his neck and cheeks burning because it had taken him an inordinate period of time to realize Suzuya’s lips were pressed firmly against his, and they were kissing one another. Now wasn’t that a funny thought?

The panic hadn’t quite settled in yet, thankfully, so there were a few precious milliseconds were Mutsuki could sit and enjoy it. He didn’t like to think about kissing or crushes or anything of that ugly nature, but with Suzuya it didn’t seem so daunting. It didn’t feel real. So Mutsuki could sit like this without immediately jerking away and running for his life because he felt like this was safe. He didn’t feel any real intent behind this. And perhaps to anyone else, the lack of intent would have been the most jarring thing, but to Mutsuki it was a godsend. Because without meaning anything, it meant everything.

But even with that sort of resolution, Mutsuki couldn’t find it in himself to return the kiss even though he sort of wanted to. He was simply frozen, and the kiss wasn’t going anywhere anyway. It wasn’t like in movies or anything, where lips moved rapidly and everything looked super uncomfortable. It was just this. And this was nice. Calm, almost. There wasn’t enough pressure for Mutsuki to have an anxiety attack. It was okay.

And then Suzuya pulled away. They were smiling happily, looking all too pleased, while Mutsuki sat dumbly and flushed and feeling a little queasy, but he pinned that on the tumultuous cycle of emotions tearing through him.

“Sugar!” they exclaimed throwing out their hands. “See? And my squad complains I never share.”

Instinctively, Mutsuki licked his lips. A burst of sweetness blew over his tongue, sugar crystals melting fast, and he looked down at his hands, finding that they were shaking. Well. Yeah. Okay, yeah, understandable. He took a deep breath. He was inhaling sugar, and the ungodly sweet scent that was simply Suzuya’s skin.

“Suzuya…” Mutsuki closed his eyes. Whatever had just happened, Mutsuki had a feeling it wasn’t exactly normal. On any level. He would and could probably spend a lifetime trying to puzzle it out. And for whatever reason, he was okay with that. So he opened his eyes, glancing at Suzuya pleadingly with the solely uncovered one, and he spoke in a breathless voice. “Can we _please_ talk about the case now?”

**Author's Note:**

> /will smith pose
> 
> ur welcome abby
> 
> oh, um, please note i don't have adhd? i've just had this headcanon forever that suzuya has adhd, because i feel like it makes a lot of sense with their behavior. 
> 
> as for the kiss, you can read it as romantic or platonic, bc frankly with this ship that line is really blurry and thin because i write them both as asexual and suzuya kinda gives off aromantic vibes and you know what, that's so chill? their relationship is so chill. they can be just cute casual date friends who just do nothing but talk and talk and maybe hold hands a little and i guess kiss sometimes but mostly hold hands and cuddle, what i'm saying is this ship is my baby and relationships are weird.


End file.
